Levels of Expectation
by katstales
Summary: Tag for Outcast. John and Dave have their talk after their father's wake.


Author's Note: When I wrote "Good Night, Mr. Sheppard, Wherever You Are," it didn't turn out quite as I'd envisioned and I'd always intended to write another, one without Ghost-Patrick stealing the story. It has taken 5 years, but the boys finally decided to give in and spill their guts. Sort of. And boy, did they ever **TALK**!

Also, this tag has been edited but not beta-ed. Mostly because I have no clue where to even find a beta for SGA anymore, lol.

_**Levels of Expectation**_

"I...I'm glad you made it." To say Dave Sheppard was surprised at his brother's arrival was an understatement. After their verbal sparring match and John's hasty departure from the wake, Dave hadn't really expected any response to his phone call inviting John to join him today. He'd made a point of requesting the operator at Petersen mention the personal video recordings from their father, hoping it might draw the prodigal son to attend, but he had no way of knowing if John had ever received the message-or if John would have any interest in what Patrick Sheppard had to say to him. Still, Dave was happy to see his brother and hoped they could begin to work on rebuilding their relationship. "Everything is set up in the den," he said, crossing the foyer.

John nodded, but made no move to follow. A seed of unease blossomed as Dave studied his brother's face. John looked distinctly uncomfortable and Dave couldn't help but wonder if his wayward brother had had a change of heart since the wake. The indignation at his insinuation that John had returned to claim his share of the proverbial pie had seemed genuine at the time, but Dave had to admit that he really didn't know his brother anymore. Personal experience had taught him that time and distance had a way of changing people-and some of those people were much better at hiding it than others. Would John really accept anything less than an equal share of the estate? He'd never been at all interested in anything involving Sheppard Industries, but John wasn't getting any younger. Maybe retirement was in the cards for his brother after all, despite what Dad had been told during his White House visit just a few short months ago. Maybe, just maybe John was looking for as much capital as he could get his hands on to fund that retirement. Well, that was not something Dave was going to allow to happen. If it came down to it, he was willing to fight for what he believed he'd earned in taking care of the business as well as their father's personal affairs during the elder Sheppard's illness. Still, he was well aware that the only real winners in a long, drawn-out court battle would be the lawyers. He didn't want to believe John had changed that much, but there was no denying his brother's sudden obvious discomfort. There _had_ to be a logical reason for it. A dark patch on John's neck caught his eye. And there on the other side, four more of them. He'd obviously been involved in something physical enough to leave bruises since the wake. And rather nasty looking bruises at that. Much the shape of a man's hand. A very large man. A man very much the size of a certain supposed civilian contractor John had brought with him to the wake...and left with early, accompanied by a somewhat attractive woman Dave hadn't recognized. Which begged the question, just what kind of "work-related" thing was it which prompted their so sudden departure? Maybe...Dave stopped his train of thought right there. He really didn't want to give the origin of those injuries any further consideration and asking would likely only result in what seemed to be John's default answer for everything-sorry, classified, etc., etc. Still... "Is something wrong, John?" he asked, pushing aside his doubts.

"No. No, I'm good." John's answer was immediate, but not at all convincing. Dave could see no sign of physical distress in his brother. No tightening of the muscles around his brother's eyes, no clenching of his jaw, nothing out of the ordinary at all that Dave could see. His suspicion ratcheted up another notch. His brother refused to look him in the eye, his gaze wandering everywhere but directly at Dave. Something was definitely going on with John and Dave was getting an increasingly bad feeling. Why wouldn't John look him in the eye? Could it be that his brother hadn't been honest at the wake when he'd assured him he had nothing to worry about regarding the will? The two of them had always been competitive, but for John to come in now expecting an equal share after nary a word in years was ludicrous. Dave had been the one burning the candle at both ends to keep the business running on top of seeing to Dad's needs. And where was John? Off who knew where playing Air Force pilot with only dead silence in response to all the messages he'd left. Probably with his "civilian contractor" along for the ride.

He tried to rein in his growing anger, but before he even realized what he was doing he lashed out. "Okay, fine. Look, before we go any further, I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Are we going to be interrupted by yet another "work-related" crisis in the middle of this? Because while I have certain expectations by now, Wendell Jameson does not. As a courtesy to him, we should at least give him some advance warning."

"What?" John was quick to snap back, his expression instantly morphing from uncomfortable to angry. "You know I have no way of knowing when I'm going to get a call. And you know I'll have to go if one comes. You knew that when you invited me here. So what's with the sudden attitude?" John's anger gave way to suspicion. "Did you think I wouldn't show up, that maybe the work-related issue was still ongoing and would keep me away? Maybe you didn't really want me here at all. Is that the problem?"

Dave bristled at the accusation. "No, of course not! I wouldn't have left you the message if I didn't genuinely want you to be here."

"Then what the hell was that? Because if this is going to be nothing more than yet another session of bashing my work or any number of other choices I've made which don't meet with your approval, I don't see any point in going any further."

Dave sighed, his anger fading as quickly as it had burst out. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I would like us to do this together. It's what Dad wanted and if I'm honest, the prospect of facing this alone is not exactly appealing." He placed his hand on John's shoulder. "Can we chalk this one up to stress and raw emotions getting the best of us? I really would like you stay. Please?"

John looked him in the eye for a long moment before answering. "Okay. Yeah, we can do that." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry, too. You caught me off guard. I didn't expect..."

Dave frowned, following John's troubled gaze over his shoulder to the door behind him. The pieces immediately fell into place. "Dad was in the den. That last time you and he..."

"Yeah," John interrupted, his eyes never leaving the door. "We...he...yeah, that's where."

"I'm sorry, I should have realized. If you'd like, I can let Jameson know we're going to relocate and set things up in the family room instead." Dave watched his brother with concern, more than willing to make things easier on John now that he realized the the source of John's discomfort.

John, however, took a deep breath and shook his head. A look of steely determination bordering on defiance replaced his unease. "No. No, I'm fine. Let's do this."

"All right then," agreed Dave, slapping his brother on the back. "Let's." John tensed, his breath hitching, but he took a step forward and together the brothers made their way into the den.

~A~

John found himself settling into an oversized easy chair as Dave handed him a bottle of cold water. Memories of his last visit to this house had all but overwhelmed him upon stepping through the doorway into his father's former sanctuary. He held them at bay long enough to manage a suitable greeting for Dad's attorney, Wendell Jameson, seated behind the familiar mahogany desk. Jameson was his father's long-time personal attorney and oldest friend, but somehow it felt wrong to see him sitting there in Patrick Sheppard's place. The lawyer's face gradually changed into that of his father as past merged with present.

_"Nancy filed for divorce." John stood in front of his father's beloved mahogany desk, bracing himself for the tongue-lashing he knew would follow. _

_It didn't take long for his father to react. "God dammit, John! What the hell have you done now?"_

_"Why do you immediately assume it's my fault?" he demanded, his own hackles rising._

_Patrick narrowed his eyes, piercing John with a knowing glare. "Because I know you. It's that damn job of yours, isn't it? She's finally had enough of all your classified top-secret bull shit, hasn't she?"_

_Knowing he had no defense only served to fuel John's anger. "And what if she has?"_

_"Oh for God's sake, grow up, John! You need to stop running all over creation playing at being a pilot and act like an adult for once in your life," snapped Patrick. "You do whatever you have to do to make things right with your wife. You need her."_

_"I did not come here looking for marital advice-especially not from you." John was rapidly losing his tenuous grip on his temper._

_Patrick ignored the barb and continued on like he hadn't even spoken. "All right, here's what's going to happen. First, you'll contact whoever you need to contact and resign your commission. In the meantime, I'll get things rolling at the company and you'll start as VP there as soon as you're processed out of the service-there's got to be something appropriate for your...skill set. I'll have my realtor contact Nancy to get the house hunt underway, but you can stay here with me until she finds something suitable that she likes."_

_"I am NOT leaving from the Air Force!" John was shaking with rage, unable to believe the extent of his father's audacity._

_Patrick continued to ignore John's protests and picked up the phone, dialing as he began scribbling notes on a legal pad in front of him. Almost immediately, the elder Sheppard began barking orders into the phone. "Yeah, it's me. Look, John's going to be resigning from the Air Force and joining the company. I need you to..."_

_Beyond furious, John looked for a quick way to stop the unwanted interference in his life. Spying the phone cord, he followed it to the wall and yanked hard, pulling it from the socket. "I told you I am NOT going to resign from the Air Force!" yelled John, turning back to face his father._

_"You'll do what I tell you to do for once in your life," screamed Patrick, rising from his chair. "I'm not going to allow you to throw away the one thing in your life you've managed to do right!"_

_Still shaking, John reigned in his temper, lowering his voice to a deceptively calm tone. "Whatever Nancy and I decide to do with our marriage is none of your concern and I'm long past the age where I'm required to take orders from you. I came here to tell you about the divorce in person because I thought I owed you that much. But that's it, that's all. I'm done," he announced, turning on his heel and heading for the door._

_A seething Patrick recovered quickly, his voice just as calm and menacing. "Oh, you're done all right," he said, stopping John in his tracks just outside the door. "You walk out that door now and you're going to find out just how done you really are."_

_Without so much as a glance backward, John left._

"John." He found himself drawn back from his visit to unpleasant memory lane by a gentle nudge on the arm from Dave. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, won't happen again," he assured, determined to leave the brief but brutal argument in the past where it belonged. Not only was he slightly embarrassed to find that his brother had settled into the matching chair next to him without John realizing it, but both Dave and Wendell were giving him matching concerned and sympathetic looks. It was all he could do not to squirm under the unwanted attention.

Silence settled over the room and just when John thought he wouldn't be able to stand it a moment longer, Wendell Jameson finally spoke. "Well then, if everyone is sure we're ready to begin?"

Both Sheppards nodded and spoke in unison. "Whenever you are." They each did a double-take, giving the other a slightly wary look before returning their attention to Jameson.

A hint of a smile quickly disappeared as Wendell got down to business. "All right then. As you both know, the formal reading of your father's Last Will and Testament will take place in just over two weeks in my office as per your father's wishes. However Patrick asked that I arrange a meeting with the two of you, alone, as quickly as possible after his passing. He recently made a recording that he specifically requested be played in the presence of you both, a copy of which will be available to each of you after viewing should you so desire."

Wendell's all-business demeanor softened. "Patrick would be extremely pleased to see you boys here together. John, I hope that you in particular will see from the video how much your father regretted what happened between the two of you."

John simply nodded, unable to vocalize a response. Jameson seemed to understand and pointed a remote at the tv screen across the room. "David, if you'd be so kind as to pull the shades?"

The screen flared to life as Dave closed the blinds. John was immediately grateful for the dim lighting, hoping it would mask his total shock at the image of his father. Patrick Sheppard had always been a healthy, vigorous individual; the man on the screen in front of him was anything but. The face was much older and thinner, barely recognizable as his father. Patrick's skin had taken on the grayish hue that came with chronic illness and impending death. Thick, perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair had noticeably thinned and snow white tufts stuck out in all different directions. It was beyond difficult to reconcile the image before him with the father who lived in John's memory.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Wendell again point the remote at the screen. Inhaling deeply, he focused on the screen as it came to life.

"You got that thing working yet?" demanded their father, pulling at his nasal cannula. John couldn't help but think that the change Wendell spoke of must have been purely physical because appearance aside, the man on the tape certainly sounded like the same Patrick Sheppard that John had last seen.

"You're good to go, sir," said an unfamiliar voice. "Take your time. You can start speaking whenever you're ready."

Patrick nodded, staring out the window for a moment before turning his attention back to the unknown voice. "I'd like to be alone, please. I'll call you when I'm finished."

They heard the door close in the background and immediately their father pulled the annoying cannula off, laying it to the side. Moments later, he raised his eyes to look into the camera and began to speak. "Well then...I guess if you're watching this we can assume I am no longer among the living. I have asked Wendell to arrange for you boys to watch this recording together, so I choose to be hopeful he has been successful and will proceed as such." Patrick paused, looking away and taking several deep breaths.

Next to him, John heard Dave mutter. "Dammit, Dad. Put the damned oxygen back on for once."

Patrick, of course, did no such thing. "They say that with age comes wisdom," he continued. "What a load of crap. I'll tell you what really comes with age-pain. Physical, at first. Your body begins to break down and fall apart on you, in spite of the fact that you followed the so-called experts advice, ate a balanced diet and exercised regularly. As the pain increases, all you want to do is escape. Except your body isn't in any condition to go anywhere or do anything in the present and you know that the future holds only more of the same, much more of the same. Which leaves only one option. The past." Again, their father had to stop to catch his breath. Dave remained quiet this time, but John could practically feel his brother's urge to reach through the screen and replace the oxygen.

"Where were we?" asked Patrick. "Ah, yes. The past. You start with reliving the good times and for awhile the physical pain can be ignored. Unfortunately, the good times do not last, just as they didn't last when they actually happened. Still, you have no desire to return to the present and all that physical pain, so before you know it, you're revisiting other times, ones that weren't so good." Another pause, as Patrick appeared to gather his thoughts. "And that's when you arrive in the land of Nothing-but-regrets. Though it's far too late for me, I want you-both of you-to learn from my mistakes."

Their father sighed deeply before continuing. "I've come to realize that in order for this to happen, you will need to know what those mistakes were." Patrick hesitated, but not from difficulty breathing. "There were a lot of them," he continued. "So many regrets. So very many regrets. I haven't enough time or energy left to cover them all, but there are those that I must tell you about." A coughing fit robbed his father of the ability to continue.

"Dammit," he muttered between coughs, grabbing for the oxygen cannula and working it back into place. The fit subsided, allowing Patrick to continue. "As you are both well aware, it has always been my dream to build an empire to share with my sons. A legacy to benefit generations of Sheppards far into the future. I could see it all so damn clearly, even when you boys were small. John would be the one to take the company into the future, the idea man, the leader who would take us into tomorrow. David would be leader of the present, keeping the company stable and financially healthy. Each of your strengths, perfectly suited for the roles I envisioned. And so I began to plan your futures, from the moment each of you were born."

It was all John could do to quash the urge to flee the room, running as fast as he could and never, ever looking back. On the screen, Patrick continued speaking, oblivious to his son's distress. "The two of you are far and away my greatest achievements. You have brought me more joy than I could have ever imagined. You are also the source of my biggest regrets."

Dave placed his hand on John's wrist, almost as if he were able to read his brother's mind. It was enough to keep him from fleeing, but the urge did not lessen. "David. You've been the perfect son, accepting whatever I've tasked you with, never complaining or resentful. I do not have the words to tell you how proud of you I am, of the way you've stepped in to take over the company without missing a beat. I am well aware of how large a burden it can be, but still you manage to effortlessly carry it as you see to my needs and issues. The ease with which you accomplish it all would make any father proud, son, especially this one."

Patrick's voice broke, but he pushed onward. "And so we come to you, John. My dear boy, from the first moment I saw you, held you in my arms, I could sense that you were destined for great things. I would find myself standing at your crib, just watching you sleep, imagining all the possibilities that lay before you. From very early on, I saw the leader you were destined to become. And so I began to carefully craft a future for you, one that would bring you to your full potential and eventually to the head of Sheppard Industries."

Again Patrick paused, this time to wipe the moisture from his eyes. "They say that hindsight is 20/20. God's honest truth, that one." He looked away from the camera for a moment, and when he looked back, his eyes were sad, almost haunted. "When I look back now, I can't help but see what an arrogant God damned know-it-all bastard I was. I see how Dave always did as told, following the plan I laid out for his future without a single protest. I see John doing just the opposite, fighting every step of the way to choose his own future. Wanting...no, needing to forge his own path in life. And I see me, so damn righteous and certain; certain that my way, my vision for my sons was the right one. Certain that my plans were the only way for them to be successful."

John swallowed the lump in his throat, finally beginning to see the change he'd been told about by both Dave and Wendell. "Even the biggest fool knows that a truly great leader is not born to blindly follow anyone, anywhere. He's the trail blazer, the one who instinctively knows the right path to take, who leads the way for others to blindly follow. I was unable..." Patrick stopped, vehemently shaking his head. "No. That's not true. I have to be honest-I owe you that much, son. I wasn't unable to accept the idea that your path in life didn't lead to Sheppard Industries, I was _unwilling_ to accept it. I couldn't admit to myself or anyone else that my dream would never come true. And so I tried to force you into a mold that was an impossible fit for you." The haunted look returned to Patrick's eyes. "You were going to be my great leader, John. I knew it almost from the day you were born. I expected you to just blindly follow my plan, never questioning that I knew best. And in doing so, I doomed us both to failure."

Patrick laughed derisively. "I am at a complete loss as to how I failed to see it back then. Ego? Arrogance? Probably both, if I'm honest. I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I'd been more willing-hell, if I'd been _at all_ willing to compromise with you regarding your career path. And in finally admitting to myself how wrong I was, I find myself also questioning whether Dave ever really wanted the life I planned for him, or if he was simply accepting my choices for him out of duty and a desire to keep peace. I've no idea if he might have had other dreams of his own, dreams that were never realized because of me. And I will never know because I cannot face the possibility that his answer will not be the one I want, the one I need to hear. And so I will not ask, choosing instead to take the coward's way and leave this world never knowing the truth."

A lone tear slipped from Patrick's eye, slowly making its way down his gaunt cheek. "What I see now with absolute clarity is how badly I failed you, both of you, in so many, many ways. I know I have no right to ask, but I pray every day, that if not now, then at some point in the future you will be able to forgive me. If not, it will be no more than I deserve." Another tear drop followed the trail of its predecessor. "I've already told you that I have numerous regrets. But by far the single biggest regret in my life and the one thing I would give anything to go back and change involves you, John. Through no one's fault but my own, I will never know the man you have become. And I have no doubt whatsoever that you've become the man I always knew you'd be. Not because of me, but in spite of me. I'm very proud of you, son. I regret to the absolute core of my being that you will never hear these words from me in person, face-to-face. And I am ashamed, so very deeply ashamed, that it has taken me so long to tell you."

As Patrick fell silent both John and Dave wiped their eyes, mimicking their father's movements on the screen. John swallowed another lump in his throat, still processing his father's words. Words he had waited a lifetime to hear. Now that they'd finally been spoken, he wasn't sure at all how he felt about it. Part of him was angry, urging him to yell "too little, too late!" at the old man on the screen. Another part of him was feeling vindicated, like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. But by far, the largest part of him was feeling undeserving. His father didn't know the things he'd done, things that never would or could warrant forgiveness. If either his brother or his father found out about even one of them, they would disown him in a heartbeat. Pride would be the last thing Patrick Sheppard would feel about him. A great leader? No, not hardly, not by a long shot. The only thing great about him was the magnitude of his screw-ups.

On the screen Patrick cleared his throat, pulling John from his thoughts. "The formal reading of my will won't be for another couple of weeks, but I'd like to tell you myself what it's going to contain. First, of course, is Sheppard Industries. David, I'm leaving you 80% of my share of the company. You will continue on as CEO and run things just as you have been. It's comforting to know that my life's work is going to be in such good hands and will remain a force to be reckoned with well into the future." His smile faded as the recording continued. "John, I am leaving you the remaining 20% of my shares. Son, I've tried to take the President's advice and forget about you ever joining the company, I really have. So I hope you can believe me when I tell you that I am leaving you these shares not as an under-handed tactic designed to pull you into the company, but for any children you might eventually have. I'd like for them to have the option of being part of the company-provided they wish to be, of course. Wendell has papers that will give David your proxy and relieve you of any responsibility. All you'll need to do is cash the checks. Use the income generated for your eventual retirement from the military or give it away if you so choose, but please don't refuse me this. Allow your future heirs this opportunity. Please."

John was far from pleased with the announcement, but he had no time to dwell on it as his father moved on to the next item on his list. "Second are my other holdings and properties. I'm leaving the ranch to you, David, but with the understanding that I want your brother to always be welcome here. It was, after all, his childhood home, too. John, know that I mean this as no slight to you in any way. It's simply that with the ranch's proximity to company headquarters, it made more sense to me to leave it to your brother. Given it will be some time before you retire from service, you won't be free to live here for the foreseeable future anyway. I am aware there will be those who view it as a reward to David for taking care of everything when you were unable to be here, but that was not my intention. If there is any fault for your absence, it does not lie with you; it, in fact, lies squarely on my shoulders. It always has. I can only wish I hadn't been too stubborn to admit it before now."

John was perfectly fine with Patrick's decision to leave the ranch to Dave, regardless of the reasons behind it. The ranch had stopped being home for John a long, long time ago. He had no time to ponder the rest, as onscreen Patrick continued his list. "There will be a number of small bequests to a few of my close friends and long-time employees, but I'm dividing the rest of my estate equally between the two of you. Cash, stocks, real estate, the whole nine yards. I hope you will both accept this decision and not contest any provision of my will. Should you choose to do so in spite of my request, rest assured, I have instructed Wendell to do whatever it takes to see that my final wishes are carried out as I have set forth."

Too stunned to even breathe, John stared blankly at the screen. Half of everything else? Oh no, no way. He _had_ to have heard that wrong. He didn't deserve anything, didn't need or _want_ anything from his father. What use would he have for any of it when he spent the vast majority of his time in the Pegasus galaxy? No, he'd need to have to have a talk with Jameson-soon-and find out how to go about officially refusing his share of the inheritance. Because there just had to be a way to get out of this. There had to.

Back onscreen, the sad, haunted look returned to their father's eyes. "There is one final request I have for you boys, one that has nothing to do with my will and everything to do my legacy. I spent so much of my life focused on the material legacy of Sheppard Industries that I ignored the most important legacy of all. The family bond." Tears again trailed down Patrick Sheppard's cheeks, his voice breaking. "I single-handedly tore our family apart with my unwillingness to bend and my demands for blind obedience. I destroyed the close bond you two shared as young boys and deprived you of the opportunity to know and appreciate each other as adults. I will never forgive myself for any of this. I can only hope I've not destroyed our family so completely that it can never be put back together again." Patrick stifled a sob. "So I am asking...no, I am _begging_ you-both of you-to let go of the past and reconnect with your brother. Get to know the men you've grown to be, reforge that bond from your childhood as adults. Accept each others faults and limitations. Be the family I deprived you of for all these years. Dave, I am asking you in particular to do something I never could; I'm asking you to accept your brother's career choice, along with the difficulties it will present. Don't make a choice that leaves you with nothing but regrets at the end. Please, _please,_ at least _try_."

The video ended there, frozen on an image of the desperately pleading Patrick Sheppard. John couldn't tear his eyes away and knew he'd be haunted by it for a long time to come.

~A~

"Thought I might find you here," said Dave, stepping up to the corral fence beside John. "You always did manage to end up somewhere near the horses when you had some hard thinking to do."

John laughed, a wry chuckle. "That I did. I guess it's true. The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"I think it's more like old habits die hard," countered Dave.

"That, too."

Silence fell heavily between them. Dave could feel John watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he found himself unable to find the words to broach a subject he knew would be sensitive to his brother. "Okay, you've obviously got something on your mind," John said at last. "Come on, out with it."

Dave sighed. "I heard you speaking with Wendell before he left."

"And?"

Annoyed that John wasn't taking his cue, Dave struggled to keep his temper in check. With difficulty, he managed to keep a civil tone. "You didn't seem very pleased with your inheritance."

"I could say the same thing about you."

"Stop trying to turn this back on me," warned Dave, his control slipping. "You asked what was on my mind and I've told you. The least you could do is answer the damn question."

John's eyes narrowed. "I'd be more than happy to answer the damn question-as soon as you see fit to actually _ask_ one."

"This is so typical," said Dave, shaking his head. He should have known that John wouldn't be forthcoming. Well, this was one situation that Mr. Top Secret couldn't pass off with a 'sorry, it's classified' excuse and he was damned well going to tell Dave what he wanted to know whether John liked it or not. "Fine, you want a question, here it is. Are you going to let the will stand as is?"

"I don't know. I'm really not sure what I'm going to do." John shrugged. "That's why I'm meeting with Jameson before I report back."

"You really do have some nerve, don't you? You take off for parts unknown without a single word for years and when I try to let you know that Dad's health is failing? Still nothing. And after I've done all the work, taking care of Dad and keeping the business going, you think you're just going to swoop in after the fact and dictate terms? That's not going to happen, John. I'm not going to allow it. I'm the one who stayed. I'm the one who's been dealing with everything-the business, the hospital, the doctors, the nurses, the therapists, the round-the-clock care, the mortuary, the funeral director, all of it. And I've done it all alone, without any assistance from you whatsoever. I'm the one who deserves to make the decisions here, too." Dave was seriously beginning to doubt whether there truly was any hope of them salvaging their relationship.

"Why exactly does it always seem to come down to the money with you? Even at the wake, there I was thinking you wanted to talk about where we would go from here-us, not the damn money. But that wasn't it at all, was it? Oh no, all you wanted to know about was the money. Is that why you stayed to take care of Dad, for the inheritance? Because every time we talk, it always goes back to the old man's money. You've said almost nothing about the man himself."

"How dare you," roared Dave. "You know nothing about my relationship with Dad. And how could you? YOU WERE NEVER HERE."

"Tell me I'm wrong," challenged John. "Tell me the money hasn't been the focus of almost every conversation we've had since the wake. So at the risk of throwing your own words back at you, I'm sorry, but it's not such a stretch when all you seem to want to discuss is the damn money."

"Maybe I simply want to know whether or not I'm going to have to fight for what I feel I deserve. Unlike you, I only fight as a last resort, it's not my first choice and I'd like to prepare myself if that's what's coming."

John stepped away from the fence, looking like it was taking every ounce of his self-control to refrain from taking a swing at his brother. Though his tone was calm, it nevertheless sent chills down Dave's spine. "That was not only a low blow, but a load of crap, too. I told you at the wake that you have nothing to worry about. Now, I may have been gone for a long time, but I have not forgotten how cutthroat the corporate world is. You only fight as a last resort? Bullshit. You may not fight with physical weapons, but you wage a war of words on a daily basis in running Sheppard Industries-and that's exactly what you're trying to do here. Don't bother to deny it, we both know it's true. I've told you numerous times that you have nothing to worry about from me and I'm not going to just stand here while you continue to repeatedly call me a liar. You know what I think? I think _you_ are the one thinking about challenging the will."

"What if I were? I'd have a hell of a lot better case than you do. But you can relax. Unlike you, I'm the one who's always respected Dad's wishes and even if I'm not thrilled with it, I'll be doing so in regards to his will."

"That's it. I've heard enough. More than enough. And I'm done listening to you take cheap pot shots at me. I'm out of here." John turned, talking long strides toward the house.

"Wait," called Dave, his anger evaporating. "You're right, and I apologize. That was a cheap shot-they all were. Please stay." Dave was desperate for John to remain. Only when faced with the prospect of his brother walking out of his life for good did he come to his senses and let go of his anger. "Please."

John slowly turned around, his face still flushed red with anger. "I'm not sure I see the point. Your little Jekyll and Hyde routine is getting old really fast. Maybe it would be best for me to just go and if you ever figure out if you want this to work or not, you can let me know."

"I do want it work," he insisted. "And I really am sorry. I guess I'm just having a difficult time remembering we aren't kids anymore. You've been gone a long time and a lot has happened-for both of us. I'm sure you'll agree, it's been a rough week for both of us. I...I'll try harder, I will. I promise."

John said nothing for a long time. Dave felt like a bug under a microscope, but he knew he owed his brother as much time as he needed to make his decision. John was right, though it was hard for Dave to admit, he _had_ been flipping between anger and acceptance faster than a light switch. Despite his best intentions, he kept defaulting back to thinking of John as a screw-up, the black sheep of the family crawling home with his tail between his legs. "I'm having a difficult time, too," admitted John. "But it feels like there is more to it than that with you, and I keep coming back to the same question. Do you want us to work things out because it's what you want or because it's what Dad wants? Because I've got to say, it's feeling more and more like the latter rather than the former."

Dave flinched, his anger immediately flaring again. "Of course that's what I want. You're my brother and the only real family I have left. That's why I want us to find some common ground, not because Dad asked us to."

John didn't back down. "Then where is all this anger and resentment coming from? Is it because of what Dad said in that tape? Or is this still about my job and the fact that I didn't get here before it was too late? Do you even know where it's coming from?"

"I've already apologized. I've already told you that I'm having a difficult time. As far as the recording, I will admit there were a couple of surprises in there. But I already knew how Dad felt about your relationship and the regrets he had. And he already told me that he was proud of me, of the way I was able to handle things during his illness. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe what you're seeing as resentment is, in fact, your jealousy rearing it's ugly head again. We both know you've always been envious of my relationship with Dad and now any chance to change things between you is gone for good. You're trying to lay this all at my feet and I'm not going to allow it. This is just as much on you as it is me, so don't deny it," he warned.

Fists clenched, jaw clenched, anger radiated from John in every way possible. Dave could practically see him counting silently to calm himself before he spoke. When he finally did, John's voice was low and controlled. "Let me get this straight. In addition to everything else, you're saying that it's my fault you're having trouble controlling your emotions? You want me to share the responsibility for your mood swings? No. Not going to happen. I've spent my entire life feeling like I needed to apologize for being who and what I am, that I was somehow lacking because I couldn't just accept Dad's plans for _my_ life. Well, no more. As of today, I am done apologizing to you and everyone else for not being who they want me to be, for not being who and what Dad wanted me to be. If you can't accept me for _ME_, then we have nothing more to talk about."

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. In a moment of extreme clarity, he saw the truth. He had to stop living in the past and laying blame for his own issues at his brother's feet. He _was_ letting his anger and resentment get the better of him and John had absolutely no control over that. John wasn't the one who came in here full of judgment, seeing him through their father's eyes and demanding Dave be someone he wasn't. And Dave wasn't the one who'd spent his life being made to feel like a failure for simply trying to take control of his own life. There was no question, one of them had failed, and spectacularly so-but it wasn't John. Eyes downcast, memories of their youth washed over him like a tidal wave. John in his early teens, desperately begging him to talk to Dad and make him see John's point of view; himself, at first going to bat for his brother but eventually turning on him and urging John to just go along with Dad, insisting Dad knew best. The hurt and disappointment in John's eyes when he realized that Dave was no longer his ally, that he'd gone over to Dad's side and left John to go it alone. John's visits home, growing fewer and farther between, each one finding him just that much more defiant and unyielding than the one before. And with each one, Dave had driven the knife in a little deeper, always taking Dad's side against John, always belittling his job and it's classified nature. He saw how gradually he had come to see John through his father's eyes, discarding his own views and opinions from their childhood in favor of Patrick's supposedly wiser perceptions. He saw how both he and Patrick had chosen to believe John was stonewalling them with his insistence that so much of his job was classified, believing that he was simply too embarrassed to admit how big of a mistake he'd made in choosing the Air Force as his career path. Then Dad had his visit with the President and it seemed pretty apparent that there might just be more to all of John's classified activities than they'd been willing to admit after all. But did any of that excuse the fact that John hadn't responded to any of his messages about Dad?

A heavy sigh from his brother drew Dave from his thoughts. "I guess this is goodbye then," said John.

Dave bit down on another angry retort. His feelings were definitely confused about a lot of things, but there was one point on which they were crystal clear. "I'd like you to stay, for what it's worth. Though I will understand if you feel you need to leave. Before you go, I'd still like to know what you're looking for in relation to a resolution regarding Dad's will. Because I don't see any room for negotiation here."

John looked as confused as Dave felt. "What am I looking for? Nothing. And I'm not sure why you feel you need to negotiate anything. It has nothing to do with you."

Dave was suddenly feeling as if they were having two entirely different conversations. "So you aren't going to ask for more of a share in the company?"

"After I've spent the entirety of my teenage years and adult life trying to get away from it? Are you insane?"

"So I take it that's a no?"

"Oh, it's not just a no. It's a HELL NO! I'm not even sure I'm going to accept the twenty percent."

"You're not..." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the proverbial light bulb went off. "Oh my God. You're thinking about refusing your entire inheritance. That's what the meeting with Wendell is about."

John rolled his eyes, cocking his head from side to side. "Thinking about it. Haven't made any final decisions yet."

Dave was truly stunned. "But why? I mean, I understand why you might not want the shares in the company. But the rest of it?"

"Because I'm not really in a position to use, much less manage, multiple real estate properties and the rest of it is a multi-million dollar headache that I'm not sure I want to take on."

"What about when you eventually retire? You'll never have to worry about money again, no matter what type of lifestyle you choose to live."

"In spite of what you and Dad think...thought...whatever...I'm not exactly destitute. Retirement is a long, long way off. But if it happened tomorrow-which it won't-between my pension and the money I've managed to put aside, I'll be just fine. Without a dime of Dad's money. I know it's hard for you to believe, but I've done pretty damn well all on my own." Dave could tell John was growing more annoyed by the minute. He had definitely hit a sore spot.

"You do know that you can hire people to oversee the properties and manage the finances."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I'd still need to keep an eye on the managers and I'm not sure I want the hassle."

"You could rent out the vacation homes and put them to work making you even more money," suggested Dave.

"I know," snapped John. "But not all of us are so obsessed with the damn money."

"I was just trying to help."

"I know. And I'm sorry." John sighed. "It's just...I had my mind made up to refuse the whole shebang until Wendell suggested the management and rental solutions. And that got me to thinking."

Dave thought he understood where his brother was going with this-and where his attitude was coming from. "So you've decided to go along with the inheritance and you're annoyed about it. I'm curious. What made you change your mind? There's obviously more to it than the rental income."

"Oh, there won't be any rental income," clarified John. "I have something else in mind."

Dave's eyebrows rose in surprise. Maybe he didn't understand as much as he thought he did. "If you're not going to rent them out, then that leaves, what, a charity? Is that it? You're going to donate your inheritance to...what?"

John shrugged. "Not exactly donate it, no. Sometimes my guys get a little beat up out there. And sometimes they get more than a little beat up. I can't help but think how great those properties would be for them when that happens-a nice peaceful place to recover. A place where they wouldn't have to worry who might or might not have the right security clearance."

"And I'm guessing you're planning to use the money to fund their stay," guessed Dave. "Are you going to set up a foundation?"

"I'm not sure," admitted John. "That's one of the things that I need to talk to Jameson about. I'm not sure if this is even doable at all."

Now that he was finally allowing himself to let go of the past-and his anger-Dave was beginning to see an entirely different side of his brother. Though it pained him to admit it, he was impressed. John's mention of 'his guys' had not gone unnoticed, even though he'd refrained from remarking on it. John was obviously in some sort of command position, that much was clear. 'His guys.' Two tiny little words, but they spoke volumes and they were telling Dave that John wore his command very well. The man he'd begun to discover today had a quiet confidence and inner strength the likes of which he couldn't remember ever seeing in his brother during their younger years. One of the effects of command? Somehow, Dave didn't really think so. His brother's stubborn determination wasn't exactly new, but Dave was certainly seeing it in a much different light than he had during John's teenage years. In spite of having had no contact for so many years, it seemed to him that their father had been right and had known his son far better than Dave had ever known his brother. As much as he hated to acknowledge he'd been doing so, he had to stop painting John with his father's old brush-the one that portrayed his brother as a selfish, immature, irresponsible, and even spiteful ingrate. Dave had barely scratched the surface, but it was already very clear to him that there was a lot more to the man his brother had become than he'd ever even begun to imagine. It surprised him how much he was looking forward to discovering just what that 'more' might be.

~A~

The brothers stood quietly watching the horses prance around the pen, neither one seeming to know what to say next. It was John who finally broke the silence. "I guess it's later now."

Dave looked at him, head cocked to the side. "Later?"

"Yeah, later."

"Later than?"

"Later than in the middle of Dad's wake." John closed one eye, grimacing as he waited for his brother's reaction.

Dave's eyes went wide for a moment and he ducked his head. "Oh. _That_ later. You're right, I suppose it is time we have that talk." He toed the ground while John waited for him to make a move. At last, Dave turned to face him. "Let's go back inside. We can share a drink and...talk."

John nodded, taking one last longing look at the horses before turning away to follow his brother. A comfortable silence settled over them as they walked, which John used to try to bring some order to his chaotic thoughts. He'd spent years thinking and feeling that he'd been disowned, persona non grata in Patrick Sheppard's eyes. A failure who never would or could live up to expectations. He'd long ago made peace with it, forging his own path and putting his own stamp on the Sheppard name. He had finally found a place where he was free to be himself, doing what he loved and being damned good at it to boot. Well, aside from a few monumental mistakes along the way, of course. He was surrounded by good people, the best of the best and brightest. Over time, some of those people had become like family to him. Now, in the space of just a few short days, his world had been turned on its ear. His father hadn't disowned him after all and had even made him a multi-millionaire. Though the more he thought about it, he came to realize the old man's change of heart was recent-very recent. And it really didn't change anything. While he was happy his father had managed to come to terms with their situation before he died, the man certainly hadn't seemed very much at peace in the video. And even though John had come to terms with his past long ago, Patrick Sheppard's change of heart did put things in a new light. At least John thought it did. What it didn't do, however, was to negate all the years of estrangement. All of the years of making John feel like he was a failure, of letting him know every chance he got that John didn't measure up to expectations. Nope, expensive vacation properties and millions of dollars did nothing to negate all those years of pain and anguish. So what did it change, knowing that his father had accepted him, was even proud of him at the end? The truth of the matter was that he had no idea. It was time to admit that he'd yet to come to terms with his feelings regarding the near-deathbed confession-and he really wasn't sure if he ever would.

In no time at all they were back in the house, settling into a pair of plush leather chairs in the family room with a cold beer in hand. The silence grew awkward, until finally Dave spoke up. "Okay, so where do we begin?"

John shrugged, at a loss himself. "At the beginning?"

"Sounds like a good place." Dave hesitated. "The problem is, I'm not entirely sure where that would be."

After a moment to consider, John pulled a hard plastic case from his pocket and very deliberately placed it on the table before them. "Maybe we should start there," he suggested, tapping the disk containing his copy of Patrick's video.

Dave inhaled sharply. John waited for him to speak, but his brother simply stared at the disk. John took a long pull from his beer and sat back in the chair, allowing Dave as much time as he needed to consider it. As John was about to rescind the suggestion, Dave looked up, a guarded expression on his face. "I agree. But I've changed my mind about starting at the beginning. I want to start at the end." He paused for a deep breath. "Dad asked us to get to know one another as adults. And I'm finding the idea of getting to know my brother again extremely appealing."

John was stunned. When he'd proposed discussing the recording, he'd expected them to talk about their father and his revelations. Or even the will again-heaven knew Dave sure seemed to like talking about that particular point. The last thing he'd expected was his brother to propose granting their father's final request. Dave Sheppard had made his opinions regarding his brother's job situation very well known in the past-and none of them were favorable. And given that, John couldn't see how this would possibly work. "Dave..."

His brother held up a hand, halting John's response. "Before you say anything, let me make it clear that I'm not asking you to divulge any classified information. I will admit that I do have a hard time with all the top-secret...secrets, but I want to try to get past that. So please, tell me about my brother."

John blew out a breath. "There's not much to tell. Not much I'm allowed to tell," he amended. "I can't talk about any of the places I've gone or any of the things I've done. I can't tell you why it's sometimes impossible to get messages to me or anything at all about what I'm doing now."

"I realize that. And like I said, I'm not asking for classified information. But there are _some_ things you can tell me. For instance, do you like where you are and what you're doing? Is there anyone special in your life right now? What do you enjoy doing in your spare time these days? Are you _happy_?" Dave's expression was sincere, almost pleading.

John slowly rose from the chair and walked over to the large bay window across from his brother, beer in hand. He stood for a moment watching the horses outside before lowering himself into the window seat. Turning sideways, he pulled his knees almost to his chest, crossing his arms over them as he took another drink. Dave waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to sort out his answers. John continued looking out the window and began to speak. "It's been a long time since I've liked a place as much as my current station. And I love my job, which I'm damned good at, by the way. I don't have much spare time, so no, not much of a social life. Among other things, I still enjoy video games and surfing in my limited spare time-not much time to enjoy the latter though. But yeah, I guess I am pretty happy. I'm in a good place right now, with a lot of good people around me. I have people there I care about, people who believe in me. I mean _really_ believe in me."

He was startled to look up and find Dave settling into the seat opposite from him, mirroring his position. "I guess it's been awhile since you've had that last bit," Dave said somberly, also looking out the window.

John shrugged, not sure how else to respond. He wondered where Dave would go next. He definitely was not comfortable with the direction they seemed to be headed and decided it was time to turn the tables. And he really didn't want to talk anymore about his own feelings, so that left him one course of action. "Okay, your turn," he challenged. "What's the low-down on Dave Sheppard?"

Dave laughed. "Sorry to disappoint, but there's not much to tell on my end either. Between Sheppard Industries and taking care of Dad, I haven't had much time for a social life these past few months either." John was relieved to find that this time there was no trace of accusation or resentment in his brother's tone. "Before that I came close a few times, but never quite made it to the altar. If I'm honest, I have to admit that no one has yet been able to top Sheppard Industries on my priority list and I haven't found anyone who has been willing to live with that for the long-term. I love running the business and I'm looking forward to the challenges ahead there. My golf game has gotten a little rusty, but I expect that I'll be spending more time on the links again very soon. And I'm thinking about a ski trip over the holidays. Maybe if you could get leave?"

Again, he was stunned by his brother's words. "I, um, can't make any promises, but...yeah, I'll see what I can do." John was surprised at how much the idea appealed to him.

A comfortable silence fell between them. John polished off the rest of his beer and Dave, ever the good host, promptly brought them each a fresh one. Settling back into the window seat, Dave again turned serious. "Can I ask you something?"

John's caution meter ramped up a notch and he carefully chose his words. "As long it's not classified, then...maybe?"

Dave took his time before he speaking. "At the wake, when you said you stayed away because it's what you assumed Dad wanted...I didn't sense any anger there. Well, not towards Dad anyway" he amended, flashing a wry smile. "I'm wondering...after what he said in the video...do you regret not seeing him before he passed?"

John took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. His fight or flight instinct was screaming at him to run, but he forced himself to remain seated and sip his beer while he watched the horses outside. "No. It...wouldn't have gone well."

"So...you are still angry with him," persisted Dave.

John shook his head, but didn't immediately answer. He picked at the label on his beer bottle, taking his time in sorting through his feelings. When he finally spoke, he found himself unable to look his brother in the eye, watching the horses outside instead. "By the time I hit my teens, I knew I could never be the son he wanted me to be. I was angry with him a lot back then. But I held onto the hope that once I finished school and was established in my career, he'd come around. He'd see that I was happy and doing well and accept that I was never coming onboard at SI. Well, eventually he would." He paused, steeling himself against the unpleasant memories. "Then came the day I told him about my divorce. I don't remember ever being that angry before. With anyone. And when I left, he seemed pretty clear about the fact that he wouldn't exactly welcome me back."

"You had to know he wasn't really serious," interrupted Dave.

"Once I cooled down, I realized that I had two choices," continued John. "I could keep coming back, knowing nothing would ever change between us, or I could do as he seemed to want and stay away, start fresh without him in my life. It was then I realized that, just like I'd never be the son he wanted me to be, he could never be the father I needed _him_ to be. So I made peace with it. I let it go and moved on."

"So even after what he said on the tape..."

"Nothing good would have come out of it," insisted John. "Look, I don't doubt his sincerity. I believe he really did regret how things went down between us. But even so, I heard enough of the same old, same old in that recording to know it wouldn't have gone well-in spite of his good intentions. Old habits and all, you know?" He cocked his head to one side, a quizzical expression settling over his features. "Hey, what was that bit about the President advising him to give up on me joining the company?"

"Oh, that," said Dave, sighing deeply. "A few months back, before things really started going downhill with Dad's health, he was at a symposium in D.C. to give a speech. Right after he finished, he was met by a pair of Secret Service men and invited to the White House. He was excited, said he felt like he'd finally gotten the recognition he'd been working for all his life." He paused, as if trying to find with words to go on. "It, um, didn't quite go as he expected."

John, pausing in the middle of a swig of beer, raised his eyebrows.

"The President told him that he'd heard Dad was in town and he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet John Sheppard's father."

Beer sprayed everywhere as John choked on his drink. "What?" he rasped, still coughing.

"I should probably apologize, but..."

"What did they tell him?" demanded John, still hoarse and coughing. Every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for the explanation.

"Relax," scolded Dave. "They didn't tell him anything, really. Gave him the whole thanks-of-a-grateful-nation speech." He sighed. "And of course Dad being Dad, he had to mention how pleased he'd be when you retired and joined the company. That's when the President told him that it would be best for everyone if he'd let go of that idea, because they weren't going to allow you to retire any time soon, if ever-no matter what your desires in that regard might be."

John winced, his coughing mostly under control now, and began to relax. "I'm guessing that didn't go over very well."

"I think you might be surprised. If you're thinking it set Dad off, President or no President-I know that was my first thought-you'd be wrong. It didn't. It certainly shocked him, no question about that, but it also affected him very deeply. In fact, it was shortly after that when his health took a turn for the worse. That's when he finally began to look beyond what little we'd been told about you over the years and admitted-to himself, at least-that you weren't just another chopper pilot."

Anger quickly roared to life at the insinuation. "Oh, no, I am not going to be held responsible for Dad dying. Don't even go there."

Dave shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not accusing you of causing any of Dad's health problems, far from it. I was simply stating a fact regarding the timing, nothing more. I think if you really had to place blame, it would be with Dad himself. That was when he finally started taking a good, hard look at his relationship with you and eventually at the rest of his life, too. As he said in the video, he didn't like what he saw and it took a toll on him. I think the hardest thing of all for him to process was that you'd managed to achieve so much on your own, without his help and by going against his wishes."

John didn't like where this was going at all and it was all he could do to make himself stay seated instead of bolting for the front door. "Look, I don't know how or why you suddenly seem to think I'm some big important...deal, but I can assure you, I'm really not."

Dave held up his hand, stopping John mid-sentence. "I said I wasn't going to ask you to reveal classified information and I'm _trying_ to accept that you can't talk about what you do. But give me a little credit. As Dad so kindly pointed out, there are hundreds of Lieutenant Colonels in the Air Force. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's not likely the President would be familiar with very many of them. But he knew you-and pretty well, from what Dad said."

"It's not what you think," insisted John. "He reads my reports. That's all. End of story."

Dave looked skeptical. "Right. He reads your reports. So you're telling me that he reads reports from every Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force? Somehow, I doubt that."

"Well, no, of course not. He reads my reports solely due to the classified nature of my work. You're making it sound like we're best buds or something and that couldn't be further from the truth."

"Are you saying that you've never actually met him? Because Dad sure seemed to think he knew a lot more about you than someone who simply submitted reports for him to read."

John sighed. "Well, no. There was one time. Sort of."

Dave's eyebrows rose. "Okay, I'll bite. How does one "sort of" meet the President?"

"All right, yes, I did actually meet him once. Or so I'm told."

"You don't remember meeting the President? How does one NOT remember meeting the President of the United States?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" said John, resigning himself to telling what he could of the tale.

"Not on your life, brother dear." Dave laughed, obviously enjoying John's discomfort.

"Fine. I was invited to a reception at the White House-with the President-but ended up having fairly major surgery a few days before. It was too late to reschedule and the brass decided that I really needed to be there. So they convinced the docs to shoot me up with something to get me through it and drop me off at the party."

Dave's jaw fell open. "You went to meet the President when you were..."

"Higher than a kite," confirmed John. "Stoned out of my mind. Don't remember a thing. Well, hardly anything. At least I didn't screw up or make a total fool of myself."

Dave grinned, his eyes twinkling. John remembered the expression well and knew it did not bode well for him. "So...if you hardly remember anything, how can you be so sure you didn't?"

"Because trust me, I would have heard about it. Loud and long. So since my superiors didn't ream me a new one..." he answered, taking another pull from his beer.

"Not that you remember anyway," added Dave, his eyes still twinkling.

John stared at him for a moment, his mouth still full. A sudden overwhelming urge to laugh prevented him swallowing and he couldn't help but spit beer everywhere-again-as the fit took hold. Once he finally got himself under control, he conceded. "Point taken. I should probably have...someone...check my jacket."

"I think I'd like to have been a fly on the wall for that reception," said Dave, still chuckling as he stood up. "And speaking of jackets, the one you're wearing seems to need some attention. There's a clean towel by the sink in the kitchen; I'll be right back."

After a quick clean up of both the jacket and area around the window seat, John reluctantly turned to his brother. "I should be going soon."

Dave looked disappointed, but nodded. "Understood. I could drive you," he offered.

"I, um, already have a cab arranged. But thanks." John found himself almost wishing he hadn't made prior arrangements for the cabbie to return. "I still have a little time though and we haven't finished our talk."

"True," agreed Dave. "Although we could save it for next time, if you'd like?"

John sighed. Part of him wanted to jump at the suggestion and leave on the pleasant terms they'd managed to establish. But one thing life in the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him was that there was no way to predict when you'd be the one to run out of tomorrows. "Tempting, but I think sooner would be better than later."

Dave settled back into his spot on the window seat, gesturing for John to do the same. "Okay. So given the limited time available, where do we go with this next?"

Having settled back into his previous spot across from his brother, John again watched the horses outside the window. Despite his impending departure, he took the time to choose his words carefully. Turning his attention fully to his brother, he continued. "We hit a few rough patches today, though I think we ultimately found ourselves on common ground. But what about next time? Or the time after that?"

"I'm not sure what you're asking." Dave hesitated. "What is it that you want from me?"

"That is the burning question, isn't it?" John pulled his knees in closer, hugging them more tightly to his chest. "I told you that I've known for a very long time that I'd never be the son Dad wanted and he'd never be the father I needed." He paused for a deep breath as Dave nodded. "So I guess that leaves the question of you and me. I want this to work. But I have to ask myself, can I be the brother you want me to be? Because if I'm honest, I have to admit I'm not sure I'm capable of that. Then there's the other side of the coin. Can you be the brother I need you to be? And I don't know the answer to that one either. Or maybe I do, but I just don't want to admit it."

Dave's eyes widened and he looked like he'd been sucker punched. John felt badly about it, but there was no sense in continuing this if either one of them had unrealistic expectations regarding the other. That was another thing life in Pegasus had taught him-life was just too damn short.

To his credit, Dave did not immediately snap back at him and instead took time to consider his own words. "I have to admit that's not what I was expecting you to say. And I also have to admit my first impulse was to contradict you and insist that absolutely, we can make it work." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking suddenly weary and vulnerable. "But things are rarely that simple, are they?"

"No," agreed John. "They're not. So I guess it's time for each of us to figure out our levels of expectation."

"Before we go any further with this, there's something I need to say." Curious, John nodded and Dave took a deep breath. "You asked me earlier if I even knew why I was angry and resentful. If I'd answered you then, I would have only been able to give you part of the reason." Dave broke eye contact, looking out the window at the horses.

John waited, but his brother made no move to continue. "And now?"

"Up to this point, I thought I was angry with you for not being here for Dad during his last days or to help with the final arrangements. It's only now that I understand there was more to it. A lot more. It's been building ever since you joined the Air Force and I never even realized it." His face took on a far away expression as he stared out the window. "From the time we were able to speak, it was drilled into us. Sheppard Industries, family loyalty, family duty. Over and over. Every. Single. Day." John nodded his agreement as Dave looked him directly in the eyes. "When you took your oath to the Air Force, you put them ahead of all things Sheppard. Ahead of us. Your duty and loyalty belonged to total strangers, not to your family. Not to Dad and not to me. You left us behind without a second thought."

The words stung a lot more than he'd expected, but John accepted the blame. "Yes. Yes, I did. And I'm sorry if that hurt you-or Dad. I never intended to betray anyone, least of all you. Look, in the beginning all I wanted was to fly, to find a way to be up in sky as much as humanly possible and going as fast as humanly possible. Joining the Air Force was the best way I could find to make that happen; pissing off the old man in the process was just a bonus. But once I was in, I discovered it was about more than flying. A lot more. It was about making a difference. It was about helping people, about saving _lives_. You and Dad didn't need me then and you don't need me now, not really. Those strangers? They needed me. They still need me. There are people out there who are alive today solely because I joined the Air Force and do what I do. I'm proud of that. And it's why I can't-and won't-apologize for putting my duty to the Air Force before my duty to the Sheppard family."

Dave didn't respond immediately. "Wow," he said at last. "I can't say that I ever thought about it in those terms before. I always pictured you as a glorified flying chauffeur slash delivery boy. I never considered how you might impact anyone or anything on the ground below." He sighed, wincing as he again spoke. "And I think this is as good a time as any for a confession. After my behavior today, I owe you that much. I need to admit to you that prior to today...it's been a long time since I've looked at you without the filter of Dad's feelings and opinions. A very long time. In my head I knew how much time had passed, but somehow I've never been able to see you as anything other than the immature selfish boy who left home for college all those years ago. Not until today."

John stood abruptly. With one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other on the back of his neck, he began a slow circuit of the room. His first instinct was to throw in the towel and storm out, to tell his brother to go straight to hell and close the book on their relationship once and for all. Though the confession had stung, he'd known for years that Dave shared their father's view of his choices and maturity level so the confession wasn't really a surprise to him. No, what had shocked him and cut him to the quick in the process was the glorified flying chauffeur remark. He had certainly made his fair share of mistakes, but he'd meant what he'd said when he told Dave that he was proud of what he did. He was out there, day after day, putting his life on the line and the only thing his so-called family saw was a glorified chauffeur and delivery boy. If Dave only knew even a fraction of what he did, he'd be singing a far different tune. And if he knew the real truth about John's job...and therein lie the rub. Dave didn't know, didn't have the slightest clue as to what John _really_ did every day. And he never would because even if he'd wanted to, John couldn't tell him.

He found himself back in front of the window seat, facing a worried looking Dave. "Okay, that hurt," he said candidly. "I mean your confession wasn't exactly a surprise, but that glorified chauffeur thing? That really hurt. I guess I can't really blame you though. You don't know anything about what I do and I can't tell you, so..."

"I am sorry," Dave assured him. "I know I haven't been very fair to you, let alone understanding. I guess it was always just...easier...to think of you doing something mundane. Something safe. If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that it was mostly wishful thinking on my part. I'm quite certain there is one thing about you that hasn't changed and probably never will-you're far too much of an adrenaline junkie to ever be satisfied with anything so mundane. Maybe I'm finally acknowledging it because the evidence is staring me right in the face," he said, gesturing to the bruised areas on John's neck. "But whatever the reason, for the first time I'm seeing the reality of your profession. Because as much as I'd love to convince myself that those marks are from something far less hazardous and far more scandalous, I have a rather strong feeling that they're work-related. Your job is dangerous. Much more so than I want to think about, let alone admit."

John was regretting his insistence that they continue this conversation and again considered heading for the door. Grimacing, he shrugged. "Look, I won't deny that there is a certain amount of risk in what we do, but I meant what I said before. I am very good at my job. As are all of my people. We aren't careless. But if we can save even one life, then whatever hazards we might have to overcome, whatever sacrifices might be required, it's all worth it."

Dave stared at him for a long moment, seeming to search for something John couldn't begin to guess at. "You're doing it again," said Dave at last.

John raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Continuing to stare at his brother, Dave nodded. "You can't give me any details and I accept that, but I'm beginning to connect the dots here. You're in a command position. Pretty high up the chain, from what I'm seeing."

John felt like his stomach suddenly did a barrel roll. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dave laughed. "You don't even realize it, do you? It's become such a part of you that you aren't even aware of it. Earlier, when you were discussing your plans for your share of the estate, you kept referring to 'your guys.' And just now, it was 'your people.' You switch from 'I' to 'we' without even thinking. Dad may not have spoken to you in years, but I have a feeling that he was right on the money about you."

"There you go with the money again," said John, hoping to divert the conversation away from further discussion of him and his current employment position.

"Okay, I get the hint. I'll let it go," said Dave, grinning. "But I'm not going to change my mind about you."

John turned to him, dead serious. "But can you accept me? Can you really do a one-eighty and suddenly accept that I can't tell you about where I am or what I'm doing? Can you accept that there are going to be times when I will be out of touch and that some of those times will be for prolonged periods?"

Dave's light-hearted expression faded. "I want to promise that it will all be smooth sailing from here on out. But I don't think either one of us can make that pledge in good conscience. What I can promise is that I will do my best to accept your job with all the limitations it entails. I'm probably going to get impatient and even irritated from time to time when you can't tell me something I want to know. What will be different from now on is that I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to rein in my temper and exercise a very generous amount of patience in regard to the limitations that come with your career. That's all I can promise." He took a deep breath. "So what about you? Are you willing to do your part and make a sincere effort to stay in contact?"

John didn't answer right away, taking his time to sort through his thoughts. "This isn't going to be easy for either of us. There are going to be periods of time when I won't be able to make contact, no matter how badly I want to. And there won't be any way to let you know that the silence is not intentional. That's just the nature of my job. And to be honest, I'm not sure what I would say. We live in completely different worlds now, there's not much we have in common. But in spite of all the issues, yeah, I'd like to really give this thing a try."

"Okay, so we both know and admit there are going to be bumps in the road now and then," said Dave, looking relieved. "All either one of us can promise is to do our best to meet the other's level of expectation. So the question is, will that be enough?"

As much as John wanted a definitive answer before he left, the reality was that their situation was far too complicated for that. Only time would tell if each of them could or would live up to their word. Or not. That left only one answer for him to give. "It's enough for me."

Dave's smile returned. "Me, too."

As if on cue, a horn sounded in the driveway. "Sounds like your ride is here."

"Yeah," agreed John. "So, I guess this is goodbye."

Dave stepped forward and gave him an affectionate clap on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself. Let me know if you can make the ski trip. I'd really love to be able to spend the holidays together. It's...been too long."

"Yeah, it has," agreed John. "I will do my best, but..."

"I know, no guarantees." Dave smiled ruefully. "But I want you to know it does mean a lot that you're willing to try."

The horn sounded again and the pair made their way to the front door. John turned the handle and opened the door, pausing to turn back to his brother. "I'm glad we finally got to have that talk."

"Me, too. And I look forward to doing it again-hopefully soon."

John nodded and with a slight wave of his hand, stepped outside. He was stopped in his tracks almost instantly as his brother called out to him. "Wait. Don't leave yet, you forgot something."

John waited as his brother disappeared inside, only to return a few moments later. Curious, he watched as Dave approached, holding out the plastic CD case John had left on the table at the beginning of their talk. There was an addition though-Dave had inserted a small white paper. "My current contact info, including email address," he explained, handing it to John. "I'm not going to make it easy for you to lose touch again. So I'll look forward to hearing how you're doing now and then."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "I'll try, but..."

"No guarantees," they said in unison. Dave laughed and John quickly joined in.

"I will write when I can, I promise."

"That's all I'm asking," agreed Dave.

"Don't expect much in the way of details," warned John.

"I'll be more than happy with an occasional "I'm still alive." Or "I'm still happy." Or better yet, "I've finally made time for a social life and found the woman of my dreams."" Dave winked, his eyes full of mischief.

"Don't hold your breath waiting on that last one." John laughed, enjoying the lighter moment.

The two shared a long overdue brotherly hug, slapping one another on the back twice. John got into the cab and rolled the window down. "I'll check into that holiday leave," he called. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something definite."

Dave nodded, smiling as he waved. "Looking forward to it."

The cab pulled away and John waved back, watching as his brother's form grew gradually smaller, eventually disappearing from sight.

~A~

The plane hit a deep pocket of turbulence, bouncing John's head hard on the seat back. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the headache he'd been ignoring for the better part of the day refused to be denied any longer. As he watched the clouds rolling by, his thoughts turned to his meeting with Wendell Jameson. The attorney had listened to his tentative plans and was able to answer a number of questions for him. While John was normally a fairly quick study, he'd found himself distracted and struggling to absorb the intricacies of the ins and outs of charity foundations. Wendell quickly suggested that he put together a detailed report that would include all of the pros and cons of setting up such a foundation and send it to John. John immediately agreed, feeling somewhat guilty about the sense of relief that came with putting off making a decision right away. So until he received the report and reviewed the data, there was nothing more to do but wait. It would take some time for the estate to clear probate anyway, but even so he found himself looking forward to the time when his guys would be able to reap the benefits.

John leaned back and closed his eyes, but there was no chance of him dozing off. Between the storm of his emotions and chaos in his thoughts, he had no doubt that it would be a long time before sleep would be claiming him. All he wanted right now was to get back to Atlantis, put the events of the past few days behind him and lose himself in the insanity that came with life in the Pegasus Galaxy. Ronon would be back in the city by now and if McKay had returned from Planet Kid World, he would no doubt be pestering the big guy unmercifully for any and all details about what had transpired at the wake, not to mention about John's family and background. At least he didn't have to worry about anyone finding out about his inheritance. Ronon didn't know anything about it and John certainly wasn't going to tell anyone.

The flight attendant interrupted his thoughts, announcing their imminent arrival in Colorado Springs as well as asking all passengers to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts. John made a mental checklist of stops to make before heading to the mountain. Number one would be a first-class liquor store to purchase a bottle of Glennfiddich-not for Carson this time, but for himself, to consume as he attempted to sort through his feelings about Patrick Sheppard and the revelations made in his recording. Then again, given the complexity, maybe he should just spring for a whole case of the stuff. Heaven knew he could certainly afford it now. And when he got back to Atlantis, all he'd need was a late night on a deserted pier, just himself and the Glennfiddich. A _lot_ of the Glennfiddich. And quite probably more than just one late night. It was a start though. There, one issue settled, two to go.

Next, Dave. While not as complicated as his relationship with the old man, another late night on another deserted pier to sort through the events of the past few days was certainly in order. This time with a six-pack or two of his favorite beer instead of the Glennfiddich. Things between him and Dave were about as settled as they could be, at least for now. He would keep his word and look into getting leave for the holidays, but only time would tell how that would play out. Assuming he were able to obtain said leave, John had no way to know if he'd find Jeckyll-Dave or Hyde-Dave waiting for him when the time came. Still, they'd both laid a whole lot of long-held cards on the table today. It hadn't been easy and at times it had been downright painful, but they'd managed to part on good terms. With luck-and a lot of effort on both of their parts-perhaps the bumps in the road ahead would be minimal. Only time would tell. Better order an extra case or two of his favorite brew for good measure. It's not like it would go to waste or anything.

So that left the matter of the inheritance and what to do about that particular headache. It was hard to admit, even to himself, that he was going to accept his share of the estate. One way or another, foundation or no, his guys were going to have that safe haven in which to recover and spend time with family. There wasn't any point in avoiding it now. Though it went against every instinct he had, it was time to acknowledge that he was now John Sheppard, multi-millionaire. God, how he _hated_ the sound of that. He couldn't think of one single person he knew who would be capable of ever understanding his feelings about the money. And that was exactly why he had no intention of ever telling anyone on Atlantis about it. But since he did have the money, or at least would have it eventually, that meant he could do a little shopping for his closest friends before he returned-and maybe even splurge a little. Especially for his team, who meant every bit as much to him as any blood relation ever could. Maybe a cool new knife for Ronon. Yeah, that'd work. And a toy or something for Teyla's future kid, with maybe some girly-type bath stuff for her. She'd be good with that. And for Rodney, maybe some new electronic Earth gadget. Or maybe a case or two of that snobby, high end coffee he was always raving about. Or both, both would be doable. And pizza. For the whole expedition, since last time he'd attempted that they'd been way-laid by a long-lost Ancient warship full of long-lost Ancients. But for the record, if they ended up getting kicked out of the city by more long-lost Ancients this time, he was never going to spring for pizzas again. Ever. For anyone. Hey, maybe this time he could bring beer to go with the pizzas. Carter would be okay with that. Maybe. Or maybe she wouldn't need to know about that one minor, little detail...


End file.
